


lean on me

by all_hail_the_witcher



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, But the point remains, Canon Era, Comfortember 2020, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Nightmares, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia has PTSD, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Takes Care of Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Uses a Sword, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Major Character Injury, Oh this is, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, This is for, Yennefer saves the day, and i butcher what i remember of fudalism from ap world to fit it, and lo and behold, as per the usual, but its to save geralt so its okay, can be read as romantic or platonic geraskier, come along with me for the ride, dagger jaskier, everyone is just really soft and wants to help, gangs all here - Freeform, geralt is healing, hes healing, i had a dream about this like a week ago, i now have an excuse to, i saw this hc floating around on tumblr that jaskier is actually a knight and thats in this too, i woke up and was like, idk what's gonna happen in this fic, im still not sure if it was like an actual dream or if i was lucid dreaming, its a long process, need to write this, now hes being comforted, or if i was just thinking about fictional characters before sleep and came up with this, pegasus is here also, roach is the best good girl and thats final, the kaer morons try to be helpful for once and they actually sorta succeed, theyre in his BOOTS, unclear yet if said injury is permanent, well he was whumped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_hail_the_witcher/pseuds/all_hail_the_witcher
Summary: He just turned to go back to the inn after yet another day at the market with no news of any Witchers, the White Wolf or even the Butcher of Blaviken (he knew Geralt hated that name but hey, at this point Jaskier would take what he could get) when there were a series of shouts from behind him to “GET OUT OF THE WAY!”Jaskier whipped around just in time to see a horse barrelling towards him at a full gallop, knocking aside people and stalls like they were nothing. He rolled to the ground and out of the path of destruction, pulling his arms over his face instinctually, when the sounds of hooves pounding against packed dirt stopped suddenly and there was a warm muzzle prodding his arm.Jaskier peeked up uncertainly. He had definitely done many strange things in his life, but he could honestly say “stopped a horse on a mad death stampede” was not one of them and he wasn't quite sure what to expect.He looked once, looked again, and then a third time just to be sure because there was no way that this could possibly be “Roach?”or: Geralt is tortured by some stray Nilfgaardians years after the war. Luckily Jaskier finds him, but his journey back to health is anything but simple
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert & Vesemir, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 115
Kudos: 318
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	1. rescue

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! this is for comfortember (yes technically im starting 4 days late but in my defense Election and also end of semester). this literally came to me in a dream last week and i ran with it :)

Geralt didn't meet him in Vizima. 

The man might be a stubborn, dense ass half the time, but he always followed through on his word. 

And there was the small, teeny weeny fact that he had been supposed to meet Jaskier a month ago. 

At first he thought that Geralt must have been held up by a contract in a different town and would be there soon. But in all his years of traveling with the man, he’s never seen a contract last more than a week tops. And despite all Geralt’s very insistent grumblings that he could take care of himself, Jaskier was worried. And not just  _ oh ho hum this thing seems to be nagging at me, gosh darn it _ worrying. This was full on,  _ I can’t get out of bed in the morning because I’m so paralyzed with fear and when I do manage that I can’t particularly do anything because my stomach is in knots and my hands wont stop shaking so the only time I'm remotely at peace is when i manage to get an hour of sleep and even then I’m plagued with nightmares _ kind of worry. 

He had started to ask around about Geralt. Poking his nose where it didn't belong was something he was quite good at after all and no one questioned it. But on the 28th day of no news to say he was getting antsy was an understatement. He had half a mind to mount Pegasus and go out looking for Geralt but he could hear Geralt’s voice in the back of his head telling him what a stupid idea that was because 1. Not only did he have any ideas as to where Geralt could be but also 2. He didn't know what he was walking into, and something that could capture a Witcher and hold one was not something he had any desire to cross paths with unprepared, thank you  _ very _ much. 

But then, if Geralt  _ had _ been kidnapped by someone Jaskier was probably his only hope at getting out. Or he could be bleeding out in a forest somewhere, maybe even trapped in a cave. There was the chance that he had been arrested, but Geralt usually could get out of those situations. 

He could also be dead. But Jaskier refused to think about it. Geralt was far too stubborn to die. 

He just turned to go back to the inn after yet another day at the market with no news of any Witchers, the White Wolf or even the Butcher of Blaviken (he knew Geralt hated that name but hey, at this point Jaskier would take what he could get) when there were a series of shouts from behind him to “GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Jaskier whipped around just in time to see a horse barrelling towards him at a full gallop, knocking aside people and stalls like they were nothing. He rolled to the ground and out of the path of destruction, pulling his arms over his face instinctually, when the sounds of hooves pounding against packed dirt stopped suddenly and there was a warm muzzle prodding his arm. 

Jaskier peeked up uncertainly. He had definitely done many strange things in his life, but he could honestly say “stopped a horse on a mad death stampede” was not one of them and he wasn't quite sure what to expect. 

He looked once, looked again, and then a third time just to be sure because there was  _ no way  _ that this could possibly be  _ “Roach?” _

She was covered in sweat, and saddleless, her reins dangling around her neck and she looked slightly underfed which sent fresh spikes of worry shooting through Jaskier’s stomach. Geralt often went hungry himself when the coin was tight to make sure Roach had food. So the fact that Roach was not in her usual top condition was worrying to say the least. He wasn’t sure if he should cry with relief or worry because on the one hand, if Roach was here then that meant she might know where Geralt was but on the other hand Roach was always near Geralt and since Geralt was definitely nowhere in sight that meant that something horrible had probably happened to him and Jaskier knew that he probably couldn’t possibly-

Roach nipped at his doublet sleeves, seemingly sensing that he was distressed. Jaskier smiled tightly and rubbed her neck. “Hi girl,” he muttered. “I missed you too. And while I am very, very happy to see you and even happier that you don't seem in one of your normal murderous moods, I do wish you had brought Geralt with you.”

At the mention of her owner, Roaches ears flicked back and she nipped at Jaskier’s doublet again, stomping her hooves impatiently. 

A _ ha _ . Maybe there was a reason why Geralt was so partial to his horse. “Roach,” he said very seriously. “Do you know where Geralt is?”

Roach turned and began to walk back the way she came, snorting when Jaskier didn't follow. 

“Oh you wonderful, glorious girl!” Jaskier praised, reaching up to grab her reins and lead her away to a stable. “I’m going to give you all the apples and sugar cubes that you can eat!”   
  
Roach stayed firmly put. 

“Melitele’s  _ tit _ , you really are Geralt’s horse aren’t you girl?” he muttered. “Look, I want nothing more to jump on your back and go find him. But you know he’d kill us both if we went in unprepared! And besides, you don't even have a saddle. So just give me an hour, I’ll get you into a stall with Pegasus and you can eat something cause you look a little skinny and Geralt would have my head if he knew I let you starve, and then we can go find him, alright?”

Roach gave him what Jaskier assumed was a glare.

“Oh you absolute  _ mule _ . C’mon, let’s go.”

* * *

Unfortunately, it was closer to two hours later when Jaskier made his way down to the stables to collect Pegasus and Roach. This was largely due to the fact that Jaskier had wanted to make sure he was prepared for virtually anything from Monster-Hunt-Gone-Wrong to, Melitele  _ forbid _ , a body. He had stuffed his bags with bandages and herbs, an extra blanket and clothes, food and water and a stray vial of Swallow that he insisted he carry just in case (and he was beginning to think that this was going to be that very just in case). He had changed into the set of inconspicuous clothes that he kept in the bottom of his pack: dark linen pants reinforced with leather, a loose dark shirt and his usual tall boots. He’d strapped his dragon hilt dagger to his thigh and the bejeweled green handled one that Geralt had gifted him last season to his forearm, and he’d stuck several of his knives into his boots. He wished he had a sword, but he hadn’t enough coin for one and didn't have the time to haggle.

Procuring a saddle for Roach had been difficult and he’d debated whether or not one was actually necessary, but he eventually decided it was necessary because Geralt would likely need to ride Roach once he found him. He couldn't bring himself to consider the alternative. 

He did feel bad for the stablehand he’d threatened with both his dagger and his viscount title though. Bad enough that he left a few extra coins. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time he mounted Pegasus, deciding to give Roach a break after, well, whatever it was that she had been through. The worry plaguing his stomach had long since turned to adrenaline and he was eager to put it to use.

He held Roach’s reins until they reached the edge of town. Once they were out on the open road he let her go and urged Pegasus into a gallop. 

“Take me to Geralt, Roach.”

* * *

Night had set in when Roach veered off the road into the forest. Jaskier slowed both horses to a walk and pulled a torch out of his pack, lighting it with a match. Geralt thought it was mildly amusing that he had to apparently rely on something as mundane as fire to see in the dark but that was what happened when you didn't have big cat eyes,  _ Geralt _ .

Jaskier pulled his cloak tighter against him as he squinted through the dense foliage. Roach had taken him a good few hours north of Vizima and although it was only late summer, the night air was cold. He suspected that Geralt would know exactly where they were with that sniffer of his, or maybe he’d eat some tree bark and spit out coordinates or something equally as weird, but Jaskier could only guess that they were somewhere along the way that Geralt took to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier didn’t recognize these woods specifically, but he had recalled begging Geralt the first time that he had brought him home for the winter to stop a few towns back of where he was because he had somehow managed to get a splinter in his foot and claimed that he may have to cut the whole offending appendage off it wasn't looked at  _ immediately Geralt! _

Geralt, to his credit, had flung Jaskier over his shoulder between one second and the next and deposited him unceremoniously onto Roach’s back with a mildly amused grunt. They did not stop in the town, but Geralt had removed the splinter at camp that night and had let him ride Roach again the next day. 

_ Gods Geralt _ , Jaskier sighed, his stomach clenching painfully,  _ please be okay. _

He didn’t think he would survive without Geralt. The last time he had seen him had been in Oxenfurt nearly three months ago when he had come to visit for a few days while passing through, chasing contracts. Jaskier had agreed, for some unknown reason, to do a few guest lectures there over the summer and had missed Geralt dearly, so his surprise visit had been welcome. Geralt had looked comically out of place in the tiny dorm room he lived in, inching around Jaskier’s strewn about textbooks and instruments. But by the time he was ready to leave a few days later his swords had found a home next to Jaskier’s backup lute, his potion bottled were fitted nicely on the shelf with his notebooks and his clothes were mixed in with Jaskier’s doublets. Most people wouldn’t realize it, but that was Geralt’s way of letting his guard down: trusting someone else with his things. 

Geralt’s language of love and care was certainly unique, but Jaskier had spent years mastering it and there wasn’t anything he adored more. While Jaskier preferred to pour his heart out into ballads, Geralt liked to show affection in more subtle ways. Like offering to share a bedroll during a particularly cold evening, making camp early when Jaskier was tired, carrying medicine that wasn't lethal to humans, buying new lute strings, wasting coin on sweet rolls when they were at a market, holding him silently after a nightmare, going hunting within earshot of camp so that he could get back quickly if there was trouble, a hand grasping his when a noble looked at him the wrong way….god what he wouldn’t give to feel one of those hands in his right now, gently squeezing, a silent sign that everything would be-

“Ah  _ fuck _ !” Jaskier muttered as a branch smacked him in the face. There was a reason he usually left the dirty work to Geralt and that was because, despite the training his parents insist that he have, he still managed to get lost in his head at the least opportune of times. This was probably why he didn’t notice the rundown castle in front of him until Roach had nearly nosed him off of Pegasus.

He held up his torch, squinting at the seemingly abandoned dwelling. “Are you sure girl?” 

Roach snorted in response, pawing at the ground antsily. 

“Alright, alright,” Jaskier hopped down from Pegasus, pulling his pack with the medical supplies he’d stashed in it onto his back. He was hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it, but the dread that had started back up in his gut told him otherwise. 

He tied the two horses loosely, just under the cover of the treeline where they would be out of sight if the castle did happen to be occupied. “You come if i whistle, alright?” 

Roach huffed as if to say “Of course you silly bard, he’s my witcher too,” and Pegasus stared emptily at him before leaning down to munch some grass. 

“Melitele’s _tits_ Jaskier, you really must have lost it, talking to a damn horse,” he muttered, unsheathing his daggers, and making his way towards the castle. 

* * *

The castle, as it turned out, was very much occupied by what seemed to be a small army. Unluckily for them though, Jaskier was an angry ex (almost) knight on a mission and they never stood a chance. 

He had made it into the upper floors of the castle, skirting around the crumbling sections as he peeked into every room, his daggers dripping with blood. 

He barreled down yet another corridor and nearly stopped dead in his tracks. There were two guards posted outside one of the doors, each wielding one of Geralt’s swords. No, no, that simply wouldn’t do. A cold wash of rage poured over Jaskier as he charged down the hall. 

Swords clanged against daggers as Jaskier plunged into the fight, adrenaline his only potion against the attackers. How dare these men wield Geralt’s swords? How dare they think themselves worthy? He slashed and stabbed, even throwing a few of his knives, skirting under legs and vaulting off of walls, using his smallness to his advantage until Geralt’s swords clattered to the ground. 

Jaskier stood, breathing heavily as he wiped off his knives and kicked the swords to the side of the hall to retrieve later. Geralt was quite partial to his swords, almost as partial as he was to Roach, and it would certainly be hell on earth if Jaskier left them behind, much less in the hands of-

A quiet groan pierced the air and Jaskier’s head shot up, holding his daggers steadily in front of him. 

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

“I’ll have you know that you’re messing with a knight!” He shouted into the silence. “Well, I didn't actually complete training, but that’s besides the point!”

The groan echoed again, coming this time from the room the guards had been in front of and it sounded suspiciously like-

“Geralt?”

Jaskier ducked into the room, wincing at the gods awful smell as he gave the room a half hearted scan for danger. There didn’t seem to be anyone else there, save for a crumpled body in the corner and a few-  _ wait a second _ . 

Jaskier heard his daggers clatter to the floor as he darted across the room, torn between wanting it to be him and desperately not wanting it to be him because no body, witcher or no, should ever look like that. 

But alas, there was white hair just visible under the caked blood and his adrenaline finally began to fade away as panic seized his chest. “Oh dear heart,” he murmured, reaching out hesitantly to touch Geralt, but his hand stopped inches away, unsure where to place itself that wouldn’t cause any more pain. “What have they done to you?”

Geralt was haphazardly tied up, rope gapping loosely around his wrists and ankles which Jaskier cut away using a knife stashed in his boot. There was blood caking the right side of his face and bruises flowered in various stages of healing down his chest and likely dislocated arms. Dried blood flaked off his tunic and onto the floor. But his legs, oh gods above, Jaskier swallowed thickly, repressing the urge to be sick. The right one was badly slashed with cuts running down the entire length of it and oozing sluggishly and the left was bent at an odd and painful looking angle that Jaskier hadn’t known was humanly possible. He had seen Geralt in many a sticky situation over the years, but never one this bad. He shuddered, pulling the medical pack off of his back and onto the floor next to him. 

The precious vial of Swallow came out first and Jaskier gently slotted his hand under Geralt’s neck, massaging open his clenched jaw and coaxing him to drink, rubbing his throat gently to get him to swallow. Next came a vial of strongly brewed poppy’s milk that Jaskier allowed him three swallows of before corking. Geralt could have more when he woke. 

_ If he woke,  _ the voice in the back of his head whispered. 

Jaskier ignored it, reaching for a water skein and a clean rag to get to work on Geralt’s leg. He had just began to cut away Geralt’s pants when his eyes opened halfway and he let out another shallow groan.

“It’s alright dear heart,” Jaskier soothed in what he hoped was a calming fashion. He could hardly hear himself over the thundering of his own heart in his ears. “It’s alright. It’s just me, it’s Jaskier. I came to rescue you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so so, geralt seems to be a bit whumped..wonder what will become of him hehe.
> 
> come find me on tumblr: [@suddenly-im-respecsable](https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg)


	2. the first day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is forced to take Geralt into a town to get more supplies. Warnings for an inn owner who doesn't like witchers and Jaskier going feral and threatening him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still behind, but im trying to catch up!!
> 
> make sure youre all taking care of yourselves during these wild times (esp my american readers. pop over to my tumblr if you need someone to talk to <3)
> 
> im so glad you all enjoyed the first chapter, this one begins to get into the softness (hint: theres purring)

The first day was terrible.

Jaskier was no healer by any means, but after one of Gerat’s more dangerous encounters with an bruxa during their early years together that had left him incapacitated for nearlty two days, Jaskier had sought out some proper training, doing away with the crash course in witcher healing that Geralt had given him (which he doubted were advisable practices by any means anyway). That training had not, however, taught him what to do about a terribly broken leg that with Geralt’s heightened healing had fused back together without being set. 

Jaskier had been able to clean the deep, mostly healed over cuts on his face and torso, slaved over stitching Geralt’s right leg back together for what must have been hours, set the freshly broken fingers on his left hand and popped his right shoulder back into the socket, further immobilizing the mangled arm against his chest with bandages, but there was seemingly nothing he could do for his leg. Quite honestly he wasn’t sure what  _ could _ be done for it: his knee was twisted inwards and his lower leg was bent at a near ninety degree angle. Jaskier suspected that there was also likely damage in his hip if the bruising was anything to go by, but he hadn’t wanted to touch it less he make it worse. Geralt had already suffered enough.

Given the extent of Geralt’s injuries, Jaskier had decided to forgo trying to seek out a healer or a mage and press on to Kaer Morhen. They were already nearly there, it was a three, maybe four days ride at most. Hopefully Vesemir would be able to help. He was an old witcher himself, surely he would know how to fix Geralt’s leg. 

Of course that wasn't the only reason they were headed there. Jaskier also suspected that Geralt would not take kindly to waking up to being tended by a stranger given the torture he had just endured. And there was the fact that Jaskier was leery to leave him in the hands of someone else, especially given the rampant prejudices against witchers. No, his witcher would be staying in his sight at all times from now on thank you  _ very _ much.

There was a flaw to his plan, unfortunately, as there usually seemed to be. Jaskier wasn't the best planner in ideal conditions (there was a reason he traveled with a witcher after all), and he had severely underestimated just how many bandages he should have packed. The ones that were covering Geralt’s right leg were nearly soaked through and he didn't have enough to redo the dressing. And they were nearly out of poppy’s milk (Jaskier thought it would be better to keep Geralt drugged until they got to Kaer Morhen. He knew Geralt had a high pain tolerance but after nearly a month of torture he deserved a few easy days). So they would need to stop in the next town. 

Geralt shifted against him and Jaskier tightened his hold gently. “It’s alright dear heart, it’s alright,” he murmured. He knew Geralt couldn't hear him, but it made him feel better to speak words of comfort nonetheless. He eased Roach on down the road, checking to see that Pegasus’s reins were still tied to her halter.

It had been a right pain to get Geralt out of the castle last night. His pained whimpers would long haunt Jaskier’s dreams for years to come. 

It had been abundantly clear that Geralt would not be able to ride by himself, but Roach had refused to let him mount Pegasus, nosing her muzzle through his hair protectively every time Jaskier tried to move Geralt toward his own horse. Eventually he had been forced to give in and miraculously Roach had allowed the two of them to mount her, even kneeling down so that Jaskier could get him onto her back. She really deserved all of the treats once they reached Kaer Morhen. 

Geralt murmured again in his drug induced haze again and Jaskier rested his face on his hair in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I know dear heart,” he whispered. “I know you’re in pain, but you’re doing so well. So, so, so well. We just need to stop in this next town and then we’ll be off to Kaer Morhen and Vesemir will fix you right up and you’ll be good as new.” He didn't say what he was fearing, that Vesemir would not be able to fix him. He didn’t want to know what he would do then, what either of them would do. He needed to stay positive, for Geralt’s sake. 

Jaskier could tell the poppy’s milk was wearing off again when Geralt’s hums became more frequent and he began to shift uncomfortably against him. There were only a few drops left though, which Jaskier gave him, but it was clear that they weren’t doing much. He urged Roach and Pegasus on a little faster, hoping a smoother gait would be less straining on Geralt’s injuries. He really should be laying down given the state of his legs, but that wasn't possible on a horse. 

When the town came into view on the edge of the horizon Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief. Geralt had started to become restless, twitching every few minutes. Jaskier soothed him with his words as best as he could, singing every ballad that he could think of and even a few he made up to provide some semblance of calm. They had just reached city limits when Jaskier finished Toss A Coin for the third time. 

Jaskier led Roach and Pegasus over to the stable and dismounted with great care. He gave the stable boy strict instructions to take only the best care of the two horses, even channeling his inner Geralt, but the boy had surprisingly given him no trouble. Anyone who could carry a full grown witcher on his hip like a baby was probably not worth questioning in the stable boy’s mind. Roach, on the other hand, had been hesitant to leave her master’s side, blowing hot breath into the both of their hair until the stable boy had been able to lure her away with an apple. Jaskier had promised to buy her some sugar cubes and visit later. 

Realistically Jaskier knew that he should not leave Geralt by himself, but it was certainly not a good idea to drag him to the market, especially in his current state. So he stalked off towards the inn, murmuring apologies as Geralt’s face twisted in pain. “Just hang in there, dear heart,” he soothed. “I’ll get you something for the pain soon, it’ll all be okay.”

Jaskier had recognized this town as one of the last on the way to Kaer Morhen and historically it had always been welcoming given the number of witchers that passed through on their way to the keep in the winter months. Apparently the hospitality did not extend to the summer months because he was shouted at immediately upon entering the inn.

“We don't take his kind here!”

Geralt nosed further into Jaskier’s neck, mumbling something incoherent and Jaskier’s anger spiked. “If I recall correctly this is the same man who saved your town from a pack of ghouls last year, and you welcomed him with open arms.”

“That was winter,” the man spat, polishing mugs behind the counter. “They don't belong here in the summer.” 

Jaskier stalked slowly up to the bar, aware that everyone was looking at him, and shifted Geralt slightly so he had a free hand to unsheath his dagger. “Can’t you see that he’s injured?” he asked, holding the dagger casually in his hand, but it could become deadly in a matter of moments if this didn't play out well. “Would you really turn away an injured man?”   
  
“Sure,” the man sneered. “If he’s injured he’s one step closer to dying. And the only good witcher is a dead witcher.”

Jaskier heard the laughs behind him dissipate as he snapped the dagger up to nestle under the man’s throat. “Clearly you do not know who I am,” he said, deadly calm. “I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I was trained by the finest knights this Continent has to offer. So if you fancy your head being still attached to that disgusting neck of yours I suggest you give me and my companion a room and I suggest you do it now.”

A key clattered onto the worn bar top and Jaskier smiled wickedly, taking his time sheathing his dagger before pocketing the key. 

“Third door on the left upstairs. And you’ll need to pay.” 

Jaskier slammed a handful of coin on the counter, not bothering to count it, but also knowing that the man knew he wouldn’t be getting more and turned towards the stairs. He trekked up them slowly, trying to jostle Geralt as little as possible. 

“Mmmm no….no more….”

Jaskier nearly tripped on the last stair. It was the first time he had heard Geralt speak since he’d rescued him. “It’s alright Geralt,” he whispered. “You’re not there anymore, you’re safe.”

Geralt’s head moved slightly as he tried to pull away from Jaskier’s shoulder. “Jas?”

It was just one word, spoken brokenly from Geralt’s split lips, but it was easily the best sound Jaskier had ever heard. “Yes, it’s me dear heart,” Jaskier moved to unlock the room. “I’ve got you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, evidently satisfied enough with his answer to rest his head against Jaskier’s shoulder again. Jaskier smiled smally, depositing his precious cargo delicately onto the bed. He pulled his pack off and grabbed some of his extra clothes to ball up and use to support Geralt’s mangled legs, hopefully easing some of the pressure. 

He tugged his fingers through the tangles in Geralt’s hair, not quite ready to leave him yet. Eventually though, Geralt’s pained hums forced him to get up and head to the market for more supplies. 

He had just turned away from the bed when bandaged fingers brushed his. He caught them, guiding Geralt’s hand back to the bed gently, dutifully ignoring how it broke his already fragile heart. 

“It’s okay,” Jaskier whispered, laying his hand on Geralt’s forearm. “I just have to pop down to the market and get some more supplies, I’ll be back before you know it.”

With great effort Geralt pushed his eyes open halfway, their usually bright gold a sickly muted color. Through the haze, he found Jaskier and his shaky gaze locked on him. “Stay.”

Jaskier smiled sadly and toed off his boots. “Alright dear heart, but just for a bit.” 

Geralt blinked once and let his eyes fall closed again, clearly satisfied with Jaskier’s answer. 

Jaskier took more care than probably necessary maneuvering Geralt so that his head was resting in Jaskier’s lap. His fingers found Geralt’s hair, still tinged slightly with his own blood and began the long task of detangling a month’s worth of knots. 

At the strange sound that escaped Geralt’s lips Jaskier’s hands slowed, fearing he had hurt him, but they quickly resumed their detangling when he realized he had been purring. A laugh began in Jaskier’s throat, wildly out of place given their predicament, but somehow perfect. It was even more so when he saw Gerlst’s lips flick up in a smile for half a second. 

“Jas?” He mumbled after a while.

Jaskier’s hands slowed. “What is it? Am I hurting you?” 

“Hmm.” A warmth spread in Jaskier’s chest when he recognized the grunt as a no. He could still speak Geralt’s language after nearly a month. “Thank...you.” 

“Oh dear heart,” Jaskier sighed, placing his palm gently on Geralt’s cheek. “There’s no need to thank me. You being with me now, back where you belong, is thanks enough.”

Geralt turned his head into the touch, almost nuzzling Jaskier’s leg. 

“Rest now,” Jaskier muttered, planting a gentle kiss on Geralt’s forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah hes probably fine
> 
> come find me on tumblr: [@suddenly-im-respecsable](https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg)


	3. nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt wakes up from his poppy's milk induced stupor every now and then, but its hardly a pleasant experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i fully intended to catch up on thursday/friday but then the destielputinelection happened and effectively fried my brain so...
> 
> this is a little shorter than i wanted it to be, but its still cute in a whumpy sort of way.
> 
> also, ive started making a playlist for this fic and won't reveal too much but it includes soon you'll get better by taylor swift so....
> 
> the love on this so far had absolutely floored me y'all and!! @ barlowarts on tumblr made art for the first chapter which was so so cool of her and y'all should check it out cause it made my heart melt: 
> 
> https://barlowarts.tumblr.com/post/633896597887074304/messy-drawing-based-off-part-i-of

After their brief nights stay at the inn, Jaskier kept them away from towns. He knew it was not good for Geralt’s injuries, sleeping on the ground and riding a horse all day, but it was better than manhandling him into a town and dealing with rude townspeople. 

It did mean though that he needed to keep watch. He didn't know exactly who had taken Geralt or if there were more of them, but he was not allowing them to steal him again. Melitele help him, the only way Geralt would ever get tortured again was over Jaskier’s dead body, and Jaskier was one stubborn fucker when it came to dying.

Their fire had been reduced to embers that crackled pleasantly in the late summer evening. Geralt shivered slightly against him and Jaskier tucked his own heavy cloak tighter around him. It was barely cool out, but Witchers got cold easily with their slower hearts and the last thing Jaskier needed right now was Geralt getting sick. 

His hand lightly brushed over Geralt’s facial features and through his hair. If Jaskier concentrated hard enough he could imagine that this was just another day on the Path - another campfire in another random clearing after an ordinary long day of travel - but then he felt the bark of the tree in his back and the scent of pine wafting around him instead of the just-decaying leaf smell that forests at this time of year usually smelled like, and Geralt was lying against his chest in a drugged senseless stupor, while Jaskier kept one hand wrapped loosely around his dagger, being forced to be the protector for once. 

They were nearly at Kaer Morhen now, just another day or so of travel and then they would be there. They would be there and Geralt would be in the knowing care of Vesemir and everything would be okay again. 

“Just a little longer,” Jaskier murmured, unsure whether he was talking to himself or to Geralt. “Another few days and then you’ll be all better.”

There was no response, just the rustling sounds of the forest. Since they were quite close to Kaer Morhen, it was pretty safe to say they were the only ones for miles. Still, Jaskier stared into the dark night, determined to keep his eyes open. Geralt had sat up for nights protecting and caring for him when he’d been under the weather or injured so he should do the same for him. It was only fair. 

But, Geralt was a Witcher and needed far less sleep than Jaskier did, so it wasn't exactly his fault when his eyes fell closed for the third time in as many minutes. Maybe he could afford an hour of sleep...it was unlikely that any people would attack them this far north. 

“Pegasus, Roach,” he called. “You’re in charge, wake me in an hour and keep the monsters away.”

There were two snorts from the edge of camp. Jaskier let his hand brush over Geralt’s hair, admiring how the white strands glinted in the light of the dying embers as he let himself be lulled into sleep by the repetitive motion.

At least, he thought that he had gone to sleep because the next thing he knew his eyes were jolting open at the feeling of Geralt thrashing against his chest. His hand was already on his dagger before Geralt whimpered and he realized the threat was not a physical one.

“It’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier muttered, placing his hands firmly on Geralt’s torso to stop the thrashing, he was already hurt enough. “It’s me, it’s Jaskier. I got you, you’re safe.” 

Despite the copious amounts of poppy’s milk in his system, Geralt still had nightmares. They had alarmed him the first few days, but they had since fallen into a well practiced routine and Jaskier hated to admit it, but Geralt half-waking in a frenzy of hiccups and incoherent mumblings was how he knew to give him another dose of the drugs. 

“Jas?” 

“Right here, dear heart. I’m right here. It was just a dream.” It was unusual for Geralt to speak coherently after a nightmare, probably due to a combination of the drugs and the pain, and Jaskier frowned as he began to rub gently circles into Geralt’s uninjured shoulder. 

Geralt hummed lowly, which turned into a grunt as he tried to shift. 

“Careful,” Jaskier chided. “You should stay still.”

“Why’m I...in...pain?” 

Jaskier had not expected a full sentence out of Geralt and clearly Geralt hadn’t either, based on the way his chest was heaving. He tried to remember when he’d given Geralt his last dose of poppy’s milk….yesterday afternoon? Perhaps? Gods, how had he let him go that long? Geralt never complained about pain. He began to shift Geralt as carefully as he could so that he could get some more poppy’s milk.

“You were, ah…” It was probably not a good idea to bring up the torture right now after a nightmare. “You were injured. Badly. Worse than I can fix. I’m taking you to Kaer Morhen.” He returned to where Geralt was propped against the tree and kneeled down, poppy’s milk in hand. 

Geralt mumbled a few words.

“What was that, dear heart?”

“Tortured?” 

Jaskier froze, hoping that he had imagined the broken word tumbling out of Geralt’s mouth, but he turned minutely closer to him and cracked open one glowing eye, clearly waiting for a response. 

“Y-yes. Yeah. Yeah you were,” he stumbled over his own words. “But I got you out and they’re not gonna hurt you again alright?”

Geralt hummed again, although if it was a hum of understanding or pain, Jaskier would never know. 

Jaskier moved to sit behind Geralt again, murmuring words of apology when Geralt hissed in pain. “Here,” he uncorked the bottle of poppy’s milk. “It’ll help the pain.”

“Not...yet.” Geralt’s eyes fell closed again and he curled closer to Jaskier’s chest. 

_ Oh Geralt.  _ Jaskier’s hands smoothed through Geralt’s hair instinctively. The idiot would never ask for it, not even high off of poppy’s milk and blinded by pain, but Jaskier knew he wanted comfort. 

“You know,” Jaskier muttered, “Roach has been quite amiable with me the last couple days. I do believe she’s turning over a new leaf.”

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier smiled, some of the lines on Geralt’s face had eased with his voice, but his breathing was still slightly too erratic to be normal. 

“Yes, would you believe that she’s actually let me ride her? Without bucking me off? I don't know what you’ve been feeding her, Geralt, but quite honestly it must be some kind of miracle food because I never thought that horse would like me.”

“‘S a good girl.”

“Yes, yes, she’s a good girl,” Jaskier thought about Roach not only finding him but leading him to Geralt. “You trained her well. We’ll have to bake her many, many treats when we get to Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier continued rambling into the quiet night, talking about old bardic competitions and rivalries and the way his mother’s pastries tasted long after he had coaxed a few more sips of poppy’s milk down Geralt’s throat. 

Roach snorted from across the camp after a lull in his rambling. 

“I know girl,” Jaskier whispered, looking concernedly down at the crumpled man tucked protectively against his chest. “I want him to get better too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's more worried about geralt: jaskier or roach? the wold may never know.
> 
> come find me on tumblr: [@suddenly-im-respecsable](https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg)


	4. anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finally arrives at Kaer Morhen, but he is not as relieved as he thought he would be. Warnings for extreme self depreciation (from Geralt) and discussion of potential permanent injury/disability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took like 12 years to update. its the last week of my semester and im Busy. but! this is a bit of a longer one (literally its 5k) :) featuring: vesemir the Best Dad, pegasus and roach the Best Girls, geralt who is Finally Conscious, jaskier who still needs a Fucking Nap and all the random knowledge I have about horses that ive finally been able to put to Good Use.

Jaskier had never known true relief until the crumbling stone towers of Kaer Morhen came into view. 

“We’re here, Geralt,” he whispered, gently squeezing his shoulder. “We made it.”

Geralt moaned softly against him. The poppy’s milk had started wearing off an hour or so ago, but Jaskier hadn’t bothered giving him another dose since he knew they were nearly at the keep. But upon seeing the distress flitting across Geralt’s face, Jaskier urged Pegasus on a little faster. Roach had given him hell when he brought Geralt to mount Pegasus that morning, but the pass leading to Kaer Morhen was difficult to navigate at the best of times and with the added weight of two people it was imperative that the horse be well rested. Roach had insisted on carrying the two of them for the last several days and even Jaskier could tell she was starting to get tired. He didn't think Geralt would take too kindly to him killing his horse. 

Minutes later they broke through the last layer of pine trees into the large clearing the Keep was in. Vesemir was out in the garden, a large straw hat perched on his head, but he was standing up in an instant, fingers poised to  _ axii _ them if necessary. 

“It’s just us!” Jaskier called, slowing Pegasus to a walk. “It’s Jaskier and Geralt!”

Vesemir dropped his hands and hurried over to meet them. “It’s barely fall,” he said once he was in earshot. “What are you- oh my.” 

Vesemir was the oldest person Jaskier knew and he could only assume the terrible things he’d seen over his long life were the reason why he never saw the man look truly worried. Even the worst injuries that Geralt and his brothers had accumulated over the years of Jaskier knowing them hadn’t made Vesemir so much as bat an eye.

Jaskier didn't need Witcher senses to see how worried Vesemir truly was. No, no,  _ no _ . Vesmir had to know what to do, he  _ had _ to fix Geralt. He opened his mouth to beg and the words tumbled out, one after another.

“He was tortured, I don’t know by who. He was a month late meeting me in Vizima and even then he didn't show, Roach led me to him. I found him like this. I tried to fix him, I really did, but his speed healing had already made his leg bones fuse back together before they could be set properly and I didn't know what to do and we were only a few days ride from here and I thought you might know what to do. Please, please help him, Vesemir. Please tell me you can do something for him, he’s in so much pain. Please, Vesemir, I can’t- I can’t see him looking like this anymore, please....” 

“Jaskier.” Vesemir’s hand touched his knee lightly and he startled. When had he gotten so close to him? “Let’s get him inside and I’ll take a look.”

“Right.” Jaskier tugged Pegasus’s reins to the side and she knelt obediently so that he could get Geralt down with minimal jostling. Vesemir’s hands were outstretched, ready to catch Geralt if he fell, but Jaskier had moved the two of them on and off horses so much during the last few days that he didn't need the help. 

Vesemir reached out to take Geralt’s limp body from him, but Jaskier’s hold on him tightened slightly. He knew he could trust Vesemir, but he didn't want to let Geralt go quite yet. He shifted Geralt to his hip, muttering words of comfort when he whimpered weakly. With a stern word to Roach and Pegsus to not run off, he followed Vesemir inside. 

The castle had a largely different feel when it wasn’t the dead of winter and it was certainly warmer, but Jaskier didn’t have the time to notice. 

He followed Vesemir down the winding halls, humming under his breath to block out Geralt’s sharp subconscious intake of breath every time he took a step. 

Vesemir stopped outside of what Jaskier recognized as his study. “Bring him to his room,” Vesemir said. “I’ll be there soon.”

Jaskier nodded curtly, continuing down the hall to where the individual rooms were. Vesemir’s apparent worry about Geralt’s condition was unsettling to say the very least. His boots became heavy as he trudged resignedly, like he was walking towards certain doom. Jaskier had run towards many a certain doom before, but this one felt worse, somehow, than the knife wielding hooligans he usually faced off against. For the first time in many days he became aware of just how heavy Geralt was. 

Geralt shivered involuntarily as soon as Jaskier set foot in his room. 

“Stupid witchers and their stupid slow heartbeats,” Jaskier muttered, sitting Geralt gently down onto the chair in the corner. “Stay,” he commanded Geralt's unconscious form, as if he could hear him. Geralt slumped against the chair, but remained miraculously upright so Jaskier moved away to ready the bed.

Vesemir kept the Keep rather clean during the off seasons, but that didn't stop a light layer of dust from coating the bed. Jaskier brushed it away hastily. “You know,” he said in his usual rambling fashion, trying to pretend that this was just another normal day for the two of them. He needed to do something to take his mind off of that worried glint he’d seen in Vesemir’s eyes. “It’s lucky that you have a travel companion such as myself who has spent an obscene amount of time in grand beds and therefore values a good night's sleep. Because I know that if it were up to you, dear witcher, you would flop down face first into this dust pile and pretend not to care, but the scowl when you inevitably would end up a sneezing disaster the next day.” 

He opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out several pillows, thwacking them against each other to ensure that they were dust free. “Honestly, Geralt. I know you like to think you’re this big bad witcher who is all  _ ‘grrr I’m unworthy of all simple comforts, fuck everything!’ _ not that you’d ever even say that many words, but if you wouldn’t sleep on the ground with a stick poking you in the back, so why would you sleep on a dusty bed? The principle is the same.”

“And I know you’ll never admit it because you're a big stupid oaf- oof, make that a big stupid heavy oaf. Have you always had this many muscles?” Jaskier held Geralt as carefully as his exhausted body could manage, studiously ignoring the way his knees shook as he crossed the room. “What was I saying? Ah yes, you’re a big stupid oaf. Well not really, but you know what I mean.” Jaskier tucked a pile of the freshly fluffed pillows under Geralt’s mangled left leg. “Cause I know that even now, incapacitated as you are, you would yell at me for fussing over you! Well guess what Mr. Rivia! I am going to fuss over you so much and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it!”

Jaskier tucked a few furs around Geralt. They likely hadn’t been beaten out yet and Vesemir was likely to just take them off when he came in, but there was no wood in here and Jaskier could see the shivers rippling through Geralt’s body. 

“You know,” Jaskier’s voice dropped to a shaky whisper as he tucked the furs under Geralt’s chin. “This would be a little more bearable if you weren’t unconscious. I’m not-” he shuddered. “I’m not used to rambling into the silence. Even during your quiet days you still do that ‘hmm’ thing and I’m not...I’m not used to this much silence, Geralt. And you, in your own special way, you fill that silence.” He gently rubbed at the frown lines in Geralt’s brow as his head lolled against the pillow. “I need you to come back and fill that silence. I need you to be okay, alright? I will go to the ends of the continent if it means you’ll get better.”

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

Jaskier jumped off the bed and had his dagger half unsheathed before he realized it was just Vesemir. 

“It’s just me, Julian,” Vesemir put a basket of faintly glowing vials on the bedside table. “You can put the dagger down.”

Jaskier hung his head sheepishly and slid his dagger away. “Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed. Since when had he gotten so protective? They were in the Keep for Gods sake, no one would hurt Geralt here. He had brought him here to be  _ safe. _

Vesemir moved around to the other side of the bed, all of his attention on Geralt as he pressed two fingers to the side of his neck and frowned. “What did you give him?”

“I had a vial of Swallow,” he said, pushing down the urge to shove Vesemir’s hands off of Geralt.  _ Stupid bard, he’s here to help him! _ “And then I’ve been giving him poppy’s milk. Figured that he must be in a lot of pain and thought it would be easier for him to be knocked out during the journey.” He watched Vesemir pry open one of Geralt’s eyes and then the other. “Why? Did I do something wrong? I was only trying to help him I swear I-”

“No, Julian,” Vesemir interrupted. “You did good.”

Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.

“When was his last dose of poppy’s milk?”

“Few hours ago. Maybe three?”  _ Is that okay? Has it been too long? Should I have given him more? _

“Good, good,” Vesemir nodded and Jaskier felt some of the tension fade from his shoulders. 

Vesemir pulled the carefully placed furs away from Geralt’s body. “Injuries?”

Jaskier tried not to be bothered by Vesemir’s short tone. He could get as prickly as Geralt when one of his pups were in danger. “Uh,” Jaskier pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to concentrate. “Dislocated shoulder, broken fingers, mostly healed cuts on torso, bruises, deep gashes on right leg, broken left leg. And that was just what he had when I found him. He was there for...gods...a month at least, maybe more. Shit, I didn’t even think….” He and Geralt had split up nearly three months ago. Had Geralt been stuck there the whole time? And if that had been the state Jaskier had found him in, what else had he been through? Gods, what if he’d been too late? Geralt could have some sort of internal damage, he could- he could be-

“Julian.”

His head snapped up, blinking quickly. “Yes?”

“Go get some wood,” Vesemir said without looking up. “It’s cold in here.”

“Yes sir,” Jaskier ducked his head and retreated from the room before Vesemir could see his glassy eyes. 

It was lucky that Jaskier had often made the trek to the kitchen to get more firewood in the middle of the night as often as he had because otherwise he never would have found his way there through the tears clouding his vision. He loaded more logs than he could carry into his arms and trudged back to Geralt’s room as quickly as his tired legs could manage. He didn't need Geralt to freeze, the long nights in the woods had been hard enough. 

Jaskier reentered the room and made a beeline straight to the fireplace, busying himself with arranging the logs. “Melitele’s  _ tit _ ,” he cursed, after dropping the flint for the third time.

There was the familiar woosh of  _ igni _ behind him and he spun around to see Vesemir turning back towards the bed. 

“Wait,” he called and Vesemir paused. “Is he...will he…”  _ Gods, just spit it out Jaskier _ . “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll live,” Vesemir said simply, walking back to Geralt’s side. 

The relief that Jaskier felt wash over him was immediately replaced by fear. Vesemir had just said he would live, he didn't say in what condition. 

“It was good of you to bring him here,” Vesemir continued and Jaskier followed him back to the bed like a lost puppy. “Thank you for bringing my pup home.”

“I thought he would appreciate being around people he knew.” Jaskier peeked at Geralt. Vesemir had removed his tattered shirt and pants and Jaskier tried not to blanch at the state of his leg, twisted and misshapen and bruised as it was. “And I didn't trust any healer to help him.”

Vesemir hummed as he looked through the basket of vials he had brought with him. “He’ll be asleep for a few hours yet, you should get some rest.”

“But-”

“He’s going to need you,” Vesemir said. “And you look dead on your feet. Go rest.”

Jaskier hesitated. He’d been looking after Geralt for nearly a week now, and he wasn't eager to let him out of his sight now. 

“He’ll be fine. Go.”

“Yes sir,” Jaskier gave Geralt one last lingering look as he left the room.  _ I’ll be back soon, dear heart. _

* * *

Jaskier did not go rest. He tried for all of five minutes in the great hall before throwing off the furs in frustration. He just couldn’t sleep without knowing what was going on with Geralt, without knowing if he would be okay, and certainly not without him by his side. 

He threw on his cloak, grabbed a few apples from the kitchen and headed towards the barn. As long as he was going to be awake he might as well make himself useful and untack Roach and Pegasus. 

Roach was standing right outside the door, stamping her feet anxiously. 

“Whoa, hey girl,” Jaskier grabbed her reins and patted her nose affectionately. “Geralt’s inside, Vesemir’s fixing him up.”

Roach snorted. 

“Yes, I know you want to see him but I can’t exactly bring you in there so you’ll just have to take my word for it. He’ll come visit you when he’s better.”  _ If he gets better. _

Roach turned away from him, tugging her reins out of his hand. 

“Hey! Get back here you  _ oaf _ , I need to untack you!” 

Roach looked at him briefly before beginning to much on Vesemir’s flowers, clearly having no intention of moving. 

“Fine. Be that way, see if I care!” Jaskier threw up his hands. “And to think, I thought you were just beginning to like me.” He stormed away from Roach and whistled for Pegasus, who obediently came to him and rubbed her head on his shoulder. 

“See, I knew there was a reason why you were my favorite,” he said, loud enough for Roach to hear. “Let’s get you untacked, alright? And I have a few apples waiting for you as a thank you for getting us up that pass safely.”

He led Pegasus into the barn and first took off her reins before attaching a lead to her halter and tying it to the ring outside of her stall. A few winters ago Lambert had dislocated his knee while sparring with Geralt and Vesemir had forced him to take a week off of training. He had carved all new name plates for the horses while he had been out of commission so he wouldn’t go crazy. Geralt had felt bad and painted them for him, adding little flowers next to all the names. Jaskier tried not to look at the buttercups next to Pegasus’ name too closely.

Methodically he removed first the saddle bags from Pegasus and placed them on the floor outside her stall. He then removed her saddle and the saddle pad and carried them to the tack room. When he came back with the comb and brush Roach was hovering near the barn door. 

“Finally decided to show your face, huh?” Jaskier didn't look up as he began currying near Pegasus’ neck. “I expect you want the special treatment too?”

Roach stamped her hoof once against the ground. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Get in line.” 

He curried Pegasus from ears to tail and then brushed her until she shined. He combed out her mane, ridding it of the tangles and leaves that it had collected on the Path. 

“Thank you for getting us here safe, girl,” he murmured, pulling an apple out of his cloak and leading Pegasus into her stall. 

As soon as he had shut the door Roach was nosing him from behind. “Yeah, yeah you did good too,” Jaskier muttered as he tied a lead to her halter. “Even though you were a stubborn arse half the time.”   


Roach huffed. 

“Don’t use that tone with me, missy,” Jaskier pulled off her saddle bags and tack. “I know you’re worried about him too but there’s nothing we can do right now except wait.” He patted her neck as he headed back to the tack room again. 

The motions of currying, brushing and combing Roach did little to calm his shaking hands or quiet his reeling mind but he tried to focus on the task at hand as much as his frazzled brain would allow. Geralt never let him groom Roach, the least he could do was a good job. 

But by the time he finished with the hoof pick Roach had grown restless, nosing him with her muzzle. 

“What is it girl?” The sun had just begun to set and the shadows were growing long. 

Roach nipped at Jaskier’s cloak, tugging him over to her stall. Pegasus poked her head over the divider and whinnied softly so Jaskier unlocked her stall, allowing her to follow them into Roach’s. 

It was cramped with all three of them in the enclosed space but Pegasus and Roach still managed to lay down next to each other. Roach nosed Jaskier until he sat down on the soft hay with them. 

“I just need him to be okay,” Jaskier said, hands tangling in Pegasus’ mane as he lazily began to braid it. “I’ve never known true fear until I saw him in that old castle, you know?” 

Roach headbutted him and he paused his braiding to pat her nose. “If only he knew how much we actually cared about him, huh girls?” 

The two horses let out soft snorts, their warm breath cutting through the cold air. “Gods that  _ bastard _ ,” Jaskier pulled in a shaky breath. “That absolute idiot, self sacrificing,  _ arsehole _ of a man. I’m going to try my best, girls, but I don’t know if I can promise anything this time. But I’ll do my best. Melitele’s tits, I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

Pegasus nosed Jaskier firmly so he was leaning back against Roach. 

Jaskier let out a watery laugh. “Yes, yes I know. Vesemir told me to rest too.” He ran his hand through Roach’s mane. “I guess one little nap wouldn’t hurt, right?” The conditions were less than ideal, the barn was cold and the shadows had grown long, but at least he had company. “You two keep watch, alright?”

He pulled his cloak around himself tightly and let the warmth of the two horses lull him into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Jaskier woke hours later, jolting upright after an awful dream where Geralt, bruised and broken, had been calling out for him but had always been one step out of Jaskier’s reach, no matter how fast he ran. 

He dried his tears hastily on his cloak and forced his frozen body upright. The sun had long since disappeared and the barn was cold. He needed to thaw out, preferably in front of a fire, and check on Geralt. 

He patted both Roach and Pegasus on his way out, promising to come out tomorrow with an update on Geralt, before gathering up the saddle bags and sprinting across the grass to the Keep. 

He plunked down in the kitchen in front of the warm stove and tried his best to thaw his frozen fingers. Once they could move again he scarfed down some jerky from his pack and set about warming up some broth for Geralt. He suspected he would up by now and he would need food to get his strength back. 

In a matter of minutes Jaskier was hurrying down the hallway, concentrating on not spilling any of the broth from the mug. 

Outside of Geralt’s room Vesemir stood, waiting for him. He’s probably heard him coming. Jaskier could make a right racket when he was in a hurry and usually you didn't even need witcher senses to pick up on it. 

“How is he?” Jaskier asked, trying to peek around Vesemir. “Were you able to fix him?”

Vesemir sighed. “No.” 

Jaskier felt his heart drop down to his boots. “No?” he echoed.

“They used his accelerated healing against him,” Vesemir said. “They broke his ribs and they didn't heal right, his shoulder was out of the socket for too long. There’s chunks of muscle missing from his one leg and I couldn’t fix the other. The only thing that did heal right were his fingers, they must have been broken the same day you found them.”

“You couldn’t fix his leg?” Jaskier’s brain was struggling to catch up. “But, what is he...what’s….how can he…?” 

“I’d need to re break it and hope it heals right,” Vesemir explained. “It’s a complicated process and it could end up hurting him more.”   


“But he can’t stay like that, there has to be something we could do, there has to be…” Jaskier racked his brain. “I could contact Yennefer, could she help? I can’t see him like this, Vesemir…”

“I’m no sorceress, so I don't know what she would be able to do, but yes it’s possible that she might be able to help.”

“Okay, okay,” Jaskier allowed himself to take a breath. “I’ll see about contacting her. I know Geralt has a crystal or something that she gave him, I’ll go find it.” He had turned to walk back towards the kitchen when he felt a hand on his wrist holding him back. 

“Do it in the morning,” Vesemir said calmly. “He needs to rest.” The unspoken  _ and so do we _ hung in the air. 

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be better to get her here as soon as possible? I mean, we don’t want it to sit much longer and if he’s going to be in pain then-”

“Julian,” Vesemir interrupted. “A few hours isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Vesemir’s tone was firm. “He’s awake now. He’ll want to see you.”

“Alright,” Jaskier steeled himself, trying his best to wipe the emotion from his face as he prepared to enter Geralt’s room. He was not expecting Vesemir to pull him into a tight hug.

He let go as quickly as he had embraced him. “Thank you,” Vesemir murmured, turning away. “I’ll be in the great hall if you need me.” 

Jaskier nodded, took a deep breath, put on his cheeriest smile, and stepped into the room. 

Geralt was leaning back against the pillows, tucked under a pile of furs. A frown was painted on his face and his eyes were closed, but he was clearly awake. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said somewhat awkwardly from the doorway. “I brought you some broth. Can I come in?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jaskier walked over and sat down in the chair that someone, presumably Vesemir, had placed next to Geralt’s bed. “C’mon, I’ll help you sit up.” 

Geralt opened his eyes but said nothing, didn’t even wince, as Jaskier helped him sit up. He wordlessly reached out his left hand for the mug and Jaskier noticed that Vesemir had removed the bandage and the splint from his fingers. Jaskier let him grab the mug but kept his hand over Geralt’s to assure he wouldn’t drop it. 

“Slowly,” he murmured as Geralt brought the cup to his lips. In a few minutes the broth was gone and Geralt was closing his eyes once again. 

“So,” Jaskier said, trying not to be awkward. Geralt was usually quiet when he was hurt, so he didn't take it personally. “Can I do anything for you?”

“You can cut the crap.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don't have to pretend, Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “I know I’m broken. I can’t be fixed this time. You don't have to stay.”

“Geralt, I…” Jaskier tried to string a coherent sentence together. Geralt’s self esteem wasn't the greatest during the best of times, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Go.”

“No, Geralt,” Jaskier said firmly, threading his fingers through Geralt’s. “I’m not pretending. I’m here because I care about you. If I didn't I wouldn’t have dragged your sorry ass all the way up to Kaer Morhen and I would have left you at that crumbling castle. Every waking thought that I’ve had for the last week has been about you, about getting you here, about making sure you were comfortable and taken care of. I never had any intentions of abandoning you here. Melitele’s  _ tits _ Geralt, I’m in this for the long haul whether you like it or not.”

“But Vesemir said-”

“I know what Vesemir said,” Jaskier interrupted, his fragile heart didn't need to hear it again. “I don’t care. Well, obviously I care, and I want you to be healthy but you’re still  _ you _ , Geralt. You’re still my best friend.” He swallowed hard. “Even if you never walk again, I won’t leave you.”

Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier and he could see the hurt and pain clouding his eyes. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“Oh you  _ oaf _ ,” Jaskier laughed quietly. “Vesemir told me to get some rest considering I hadn’t slept in a week. I untacked the horses instead. I didn’t abandon you on  _ purpose _ .”

Geralt’s frown deepened. “You untacked Roach?” 

_ There you are, _ Jaskier thought. Here Geralt was, laid up in bed, fully out of commission, in buckets of pain after having been tortured for  _ gods _ knew how long, and he was worried about Jaskier having  _ touched _ his  _ horse _ . If Geralt had not looked so serious Jaskier would have laughed.

“Yes I did,” Jaskier said. “Don’t worry, I did a good job. Gave her treats and everything. We’ve been getting along much better, you know. She’s the one who came to find me and lead me to you. She even let me  _ ride _ her! And she didn't try to kill me once, Geralt! Pretty soon she’ll like me better than she likes you.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah you're right, probably not. She’s worried about you too, you know.” 

“Hmm.”

“I am too,” Jaskier said softly. If Geralt heard him, he made no effort to respond and his eyes had slipped closed again. 

“You said you hadn’t slept?” Geralt said after a while.

Jaskier smiled. Of course that would be what Geralt would retain from all that. “I took a nap in the barn.”

“I know. There’s hay in your hair.”

Jaskier reached up reflexively, hands searching for the hay. “Of course there is.”

“You could….”

Jaskier’s hands stopped their swatting. “I could what?”

“....lay with me?” Geralt sounded almost sheepish. 

“Would you like that?”

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier swore his heart grew three sizes as he pulled off his boots, unsheathed his daggers and eased himself under the furs next to Geralt. They lay in silence for several minutes and Jaskier had been convinced that Geralt had fallen back asleep when he heard him speak up. 

“Jas?” 

“What is it, dear heart?” Jaskier forced his heavy eyes open egain. “Are you in pain? Should I fetch Vesemir?” 

“No,” Geralt said gruffly. 

“Then what is it, my dear witcher?” Jaskier reached out a hand to brush the hair over Geralt’s ear. 

“What are you wearing?”

“What am I…” Jaskier looked down at himself, still clad in the dark, inconspicuous clothes he had worn to rescue Geralt. “Ah, yes, well. I couldn't come rescue you in one of my doublets now, could I? They’re rather constricting and draw far too much attention. I keep these in the bottom of my pack, just in case I need to be sneaky.” 

“How did you do it?” 

“Rescue you?” Jaskier sighed. “Really Geralt, you aren’t the only one of us who knows how to fight. Why did you think I have all those daggers?”

“You think they’re pretty.”

“Well, yes there is that I suppose,” Jaskier stared up at the ceiling. “But I also know how to use them. They're not merely accessories. I  _ am _ a Viscount, remember?”

“No, you're not.” 

“Well if you want to be  _ technical _ about it, I suppose I’m not.” Jaskier was a bastard, thus making him ineligible for the family title. That didn't stop him from using it out of spite. “But my parents still insisted that I do something with my life that would bring honor to the family and insisted I become a knight.”

It took him a second to realize that the strange sound that left Geralt’s lips was laughter. 

“Yes, I know. It’s ridiculous. And I dropped out about halfway through and ran away to Oxenfurt. But I still learned how to fight. I’ve just never had a reason to since then. But I always carry around a few blades just in case. Of course I prefer swords, but daggers are easier to conceal in clothes.” 

The two of them lapsed into silence again. This time, it was Jaskier who was almost asleep when Geralt spoke up again. 

“You were telling Vesemir, you’re going to contact Yen tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Jaskier yawned. “We think she might be able to help you, or she might know someone who can. Why?”

Jaskier heard Geralt fidget with the furs for a moment before responding. “Tell her to bring Ciri,” he said. “Rogue Nifgaardians, they were who captured me.” 

“And they were looking for Ciri,” Jaskier filled in. It was cute that Geralt wanted Yennefer to bring Ciri, not only so that she would be safe, but so Geralt could see that she was safe. “I’ll tell her.” 

“Jas?”

Jaskier opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. Geralt was staring silently at the ceiling, clinging to consciousness. “Yes?” 

“What if Yen can’t fix me?”

Jaskier sighed, reaching over to grab Geralt’s hand. “Then we’ll figure it out, dear heart. Together. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Finally, Geralt brought his eyes to meet Jaskier’s. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hes gonna get help now i swear. hes just gonna be stubborn about it....
> 
> come find me on tumblr: [@suddenly-im-respecsable](https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg)


	5. cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen comes to help. Ciri is worried about Geralt. Roach is stubborn.
> 
> Jaskier does have a rather intense panic attack of sorts, if you want to skip over it stop reading when he goes to the fire place and start again when ciri says "Jaskier?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lets just pretend it hasn't been 3 months....
> 
> this isn't edited because its 3:27 am and im tired but i think it turned out alright

It was truly a testament to how strange Jaskier’s life had become when he didn’t bat an eye at the  _ whoosh _ of the portal that sounded through Geralt’s otherwise quiet room. No, it was the small blonde girl sprinting across the room that made him stop plucking at his lute and stand up from his chair at the side of the bed. 

Ciri stopped short at the foot of the bed. “Geralt?” 

Jaskier winced at the barely concealed fear in her voice. “He’s alright, cub,” he said, moving to stand behind her. He hoped that he sounded more sure than he felt. He had seen Geralt in a great many sticky situations over the course of their friendship, but none of them had left him out of commission for more than a day or two. And even then he was usually grumping and complaining in his trademark brutish manner and doing things that he  _ definitely _ shouldn't be the entire time. Like scrubbing his armor. Or giving Roach a bath. Or even,  _ Melitele forbid _ , taking another contract. 

“He looks dead.”

“Oh, well…” He supposed Geralt  _ did _ look dead, laid up in bed as he was, pale and unmoving, half healed bruises and cuts littering his face. Had he even checked to make sure Geralt was still breathing when he got up that morning? He resisted the urge to lunge forwards and check. For Ciri’s sake. 

“Not dead,” Geralt mumbled, much to Jaskier’s relief, cracking open his eyes. “Just asleep.”

“And a good thing too,” Yennefer said, seemingly materializing on Jaskier’s other side in a  _ poof _ of lilacs and gooseberries as he watched Ciri rush to Geralt’s bedside. “I am not one to dabble in necromancy. Disastrous effects, and it’s surprisingly not worth it.” 

“Thank you for coming, Yennefer,” Jaskier sighed, too tired to add in one of their usual quips. 

“Not like I had much choice,” she shrugged, taking off her traveling cloak. “I am your pet sorceress, after all.” She winked and Jaskier relaxed, realizing that there was no bite behind her words.

Jaskier trailed behind her as she walked to the bed and gently moved Ciri aside. 

“Geralt,” she nodded. 

“Hmm.” His eyes had fallen closed again, but he was still gripping Ciri’s hand tightly. Jaskier supposed it was under the guise of reassuring the girl, but he could see that the frown lines on Geralt’s forehead had lessened once he had seen Ciri. Geralt, who was never worried. Well,  _ maybe _ he was. But he did an awful good job at hiding it. 

_ Gods Geralt, _ Jaskier thought, and not for the first time.  _ What did they do to you? _

“I’ll let that slide only because you’re injured,” Yennefer muttered, pulling back the furs Vesemir had carefully tucked around Geralt the night before. “Let’s see what you’ve got yourself into this time.”

Geralt said nothing, just shivered slightly at the cool air touching his bare skin.

Jaskier realized a second too late that he should have taken Ciri out of the room when her strangled gasp broke the silence. He started forward, perhaps to cover her eyes or drag her swiftly from the room, but stopped short when he saw Geralt squeeze her hand three times. Ciri’s eyes snapped away from Geralt’s bruised and sickenly twisted leg to his face. His eyes were still closed, but he looked relaxed (even if Jaskier knew it was taking all of his energy to appear so,  _ damn him _ and his scary good Witcher-y acting skills) as he started rubbing his thumb in small circles on her hand. Jaskier watched as the tension and nerves slowly seeped out of Ciri’s shoulder’s with every circle. 

_ I’m okay, _ the circles said.  _ Don’t worry. _

“Ciri,” Yennefer said, feeling over Geralt’s extensive injuries. “Would you go run and get Vesemir? I’m going to need some herbs and potions.” 

“But-”

“Go.” Geralt’s dim eyes opened for a few fleeting seconds and he squeezed her hand firmly again:  _ I’ll be here when you get back.  _

Ciri stood and Jaskier shot her what he hoped was an encouraging smile before she disappeared down the hall, her hollow footsteps echoing after her. 

“I’m going to be honest Geralt,” Yennefer said, pulling the furs back over his waist. “I can’t fix your leg-”

“But you  _ have _ to!” Jaskier jumped up, pushing down the bout of dizziness threatening to overcome him. “You have to help him,  _ please _ Yen. He’s a  _ Witcher _ for Melitele’s sake, he  _ needs _ his legs! You can do magic, can’t you just like, I don’t know, magic him better? What good is magic if you can’t use it to fix everything!”

Yennefer turned around slowly and raised one eyebrow. “I was going to say that I can’t fix his leg  _ by myself _ . I’ll need Triss.”

“Oh.” Jaskier stared at the ground, which had thankfully stopped spinning. 

“But I don’t know how much even the two of us will be able to do. He should really be at the Temple of Melitele with Nneneke but I don't think it would be wise to move him now.” Yennefer continued. “It’s been broken for at least two to three weeks, right Geralt?”

Geralt shrugged his good shoulder. He had an incredible internal clock, so for him to not know something simple like how long his leg had been broken for made Jaskier’s fingers twitch for a blade to run through his captors. Again. 

“That’s a long time for a bone to not be set, especially for a Witcher,” Yennefer crossed the room to the pack she had brought with her and began rifling through it. “Even with Triss the recovery is going to be long and painful. You should,” she paused, her emotions that she liked to claim she didn’t have seeping through the cracks in her professionalism, “you should prepare for the possibility that you might not be able to fight monsters again. I’m pretty sure that if you  _ listen to us _ and  _ actually rest  _ for once in your _ incredibly long life  _ you’ll be able to walk. But I don’t know how much impact you’ll be able to take. Your leg certainly won't be the same again.” She looked at Jaskier pointedly. “Even magic has its limitations.”

“But...there has to be a way to...I mean you...Cause you’re…”

“Jaskier.” Yennefer paused digging through her pack. “My specialty isn’t healing, but based on what I know the most we can do is try to set it and hope for the best, but Triss might say something different. And if we really need to, we can try to take him to the Temple. There are options.”

Jaskier thought he might have nodded in response and faintly heard Yennefer say something about her being able to fix the rest of Geralt’s injuries, but everything had been reduced to a loud, unpleasant ringing sound, not unlike the sound that that maggot-infested Valdo Marx’s lute made when he attempted to play. Thankfully, he had spent enough of his time drunk in backwater taverns that he was able to stumble in a mostly-straight line over to the fireplace in a manner that, on the off chance that Geralt  _ were _ to open his eyes and see him, would not cause too much worry.

He stared into the dying flames and threw on a few more logs, the ringing steadily growing louder as his thoughts zig-zagged at an alarming rate. 

Had he not gotten Geralt to the Keep fast enough? They had stopped in one or two towns along the way, but that had only been for supplies, really only to get more poppy’s milk for Geralt because Jaskier couldn’t stand to see him in pain. Should he have forgone the poppy’s milk and just let Geralt suffer? Would that have allowed them to get to the Keep faster? Or had the poppy’s milk made it worse? Yennefer had said something about a Temple, should he have brought Geralt there instead? Would that have made things better?  _ Sweet Melitele’s tits _ , had  _ he _ done this to Geralt? No, maybe it wasn’t the poppy’s milk. Geralt had never mentioned that poppy’s milk had adverse effects, but then when had Geralt told him anything even remotely useful about Witcher biology? But...he  _ had _ given him that vial of Swallow. And Swallow was supposed to accelerate healing, right? Maybe? What if that had tried to heal the bone and just made it worse? Oh gods, why had Geralt ever trusted him to be his traveling companion? What good was he if he didn’t know which potions could potentially ruin his chances of recovery? This was all his fault,  _ bollocks _ it was all his fault! Geralt was going to be so pissed when he came out of his potiony induced haze and realized that he, Jaskier, -his most trusted companion!- had single handedly ruined his whole career! No, more than his career, his life! What good was a Witcher if he couldn’t fight? He knew just how much Geralt depended on it, for his livelihood and for his own sense of self cause it was all he had,  _ damnit _ ! He should leave, that was what he should do. He should gather his pack, some rations, and take Pegasus tonight. Geralt had no need for an incompetat, lazy, piece of tavern scum-

“Jaskier?”

Not even all his drunken evenings had prepared him for that little voice, so startling that it nearly sent him tumbling into the fireplace. He brushed the ashes off of the sleeve of his shirt quickly. Hopefully Yennefer was still preoccupied with Geralt, otherwise she would never let him live this down. 

“Sorry darling,” he said, putting on a bright smile. “I must have gotten distracted.”

Ciri appeared not to have heard him and wrung her hands together, shifting her eyes to the bed every few seconds.

“What is it, cub?”

“Yennefer said…” She looked down at the floor

Jaskier put his hand on her arm. “Yennefer said what?” He spoke softly.

“She said that we need to leave while they work.”

“Oh. Well...” Jaskier looked around, trying to come up with something that would distract Ciri. “Ah, yes, there is a very stubborn horse in the stables that I think could do with a visit. Of course, she doesn’t like me very much so it might be best if you accompanied me?” 

Ciri toed the floor with her shoe. “But, Geralt-”

“Will be absolutely furious if we don’t check on Roach,” Jaskier interrupted, standing up and taking Ciri’s hand. “As it is, he’s going to give me one of his glares when he finds out no ones visited her since we arrived, and in my own personal opinion, Ciri, you do not want to be on the receiving end of one of Geralt’s glares. One time I think it made a man go into shock!” The last bit, of course, was fabricated but he had to get her out of the room somehow.

She looked reluctantly at the bed. “But what if something happens? The stables are a long way away from here.”

“Nonsense, darling,” Jaskier said, already heading towards the door. “They’re just outside and Yennefer’s the  _ best _ sorceress on the Continent and Vesemir’s one of the most famous Witchers, our Geralt will be in perfectly good hands.

Ciri contemplated for a moment. By the bed Yennefer’s hands were already sparking with purple magic and Vesemir was sorting through a bag of potions while Geralt still remained deathly still. 

Yennefer caught his eye and flurried her hands in a motion that probably meant  _ get the child out of here you bastard, the old man and I need to work! _ But it was kind of hard to tell with all the magic sparks flying around her. 

He waved his hands in an equally complex manner that meant  _ I’m trying but she’s just as stubborn as Geralt!  _ But it could have also meant  _ I’m a pig headed idiot!  _ Based on Yennefer’s shrug she could have interpreted it as either. 

Jaskier turned back to Ciri. “Ready to go?”

“In a second.” Ciri darted over to the bed, not scared of Yennefer’s sparking magic in the slightest, and pressed a quick kiss to Geralt’s forehead. They must have already knocked him out with some sort of magicy potion thing because he didn’t so much as flinch. Quick as a flash, she was back at Jaskier’s side. 

“Let’s go,” she said, attempting a smile as she held her hand out to Jaskier. 

“Of course, M’lady,” Jaskier tipped his nonexistent hat as he grabbed Ciri’s hand and walked out of the room. He tried to turn back to get a last look at Geralt, but Yennefer had shut the door quickly behind them.

* * *

Roach had been in a right ornery mood as usual. As soon as she had seen that there wasn't a certain Witcher with them she had refused to pay them so much as a shred of attention. Not even sugar cubes and Jaskier’s assurances that Geralt was in the best possible hands made a difference. That stubborn horse. 

Jaskier had been perfectly content brushing Pegasus - he’d only had to deal with Roach’s ridiculousness for the last week as he’d dragged Geralt’s ass up the mountain - but Ciri had been hell bent on getting Roach to not nip at her fingers every time she came near her with the brush. Well, to each their own. 

At least Ciri was so absorbed with getting Roach to not bite her hand off that she didn’t bother starting a conversation. Jaskier was normally happy to talk anyone’s ear off, but the act of pretending that everything was jolly good for Ciri’s sake had left him drained and it was taking nearly all his energy to keep brushing Pegasus. Every now and then the mare would nicker softly to let him know he’d been brushing the same spot for too long. 

He was concentrating so hard on brushing Pegasus and not falling over from exhaustion that he didn’t hear Yennefer come into the stables. 

“Is he alright?” Ciri’s shrill, worried voice pierced through the otherwise quiet stables, her brush dropping to the ground as she ran towards Yennefer. 

Yennefer considered her words before answering. “He’s certainly better than he was, but we will have to work on him more tomorrow when Triss comes.”

“But...is he alright?” Ciri stood a few steps away from Yennefer, her eyes wide. 

“Yes,” Yennefer smiled, the action looking strained across her sunken cheeks. The strain of overexertion was beginning to show. “He’s resting now, you can go see him-”

Ciri was out of the stables as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“-buT MAKE SURE YOU DON’T JOSTLE HIM TOO MUCH!” she shouted after her, shaking her head. “Children,” she muttered. “They never change, do they?”

“Perhaps not,” Jaskier said, gathering up his own brush as well as Ciri’s forgotten one. “But I think she really is just worried about him.” 

“You are too.” 

Jaskier paused, letting his shoulders sag just a little. “That obvious, huh?” 

“Well, Vesemir told me you killed a whole army of Nilfgaardians - which was quite the shock considering I didn’t know you knew how to fight, stitched and bandaged him, dragged him to a town and fought an innkeeper for a room, then spent a week dragging his unconscious ass up to Kaer Morhen by yourself, and when he was finally safe you refused to sleep and instead went and untacked the horses.” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“Well…”

“Oh come on, it’s not a  _ bad _ thing,” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Gods know that he needs someone to make sure he puts his pants on the right way in the morning.”

“Geralt always sleeps in his clothes,” Jaskier interrupted softly. “Insists that he always be ready for a fight.” 

Yennefer tisked disapprovingly. “Of course he does, but you know what I mean.” 

“I do.” Jaskier rubbed Pegasus’s neck slowly. “He is alright, isn’t he? You weren’t just saying that for Ciri?” 

“You know I know better than to do that,” Yennefer chided. “But yes, he is alright.” She leaned back against the stall door, resting her eyes for a few moments. “He has a long road ahead of him, which he isn’t going to like. But I was able to fix his shoulder and his right leg and most of the bruising. He’s got some new scars, but nothing he’s not used to. I didn’t even bother to touch his left leg, but I was able to reduce his pain. Triss will be here soon and between the two of us we should be able to straighten it. I contacted Nneneke too, but she doesn't want to leave the Temple and would rather not come unless it's absolutely necessary.”

Jaskier latched Pegasus’s stall. “I should go see him.”

“Nonsense!” Yennefer pushed herself up from the stall door. “You smell dreadful.”

“Why  _ thank you _ Yennefer.”

“I mean,” she groaned, “you need to take care of yourself before you can even  _ think _ about taking care of him. And right now you need a bath. Some food. And about a week's worth of rest.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, trying his best to stay upright. “You’re exhausted too. I’ll take a bath if you take one.” 

She mimicked his pose. “And food?”

“I’ll eat if you do.” 

“Fine,” she relented. “I’ve got a bath running in my quarters.  _ Don’t _ use all my fancy oils.” 

“And smell like a widower’s flower garden? No thank you.” 

“Oh,  _ you! _ ” She threw a half hearted zap of purple magic at him that he easily dodged on his way out of the stables.

* * *

Clean and fed, smelling like his usual orange and cloves and dressed in one of his chemises and trousers instead of his black clothes, Jaskier had to say he felt far more like himself. Of course, he would have only stumbled this badly down a hall if he were six pints in and singing jigs, but two out of three was better than nothing. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he could sleep without being near Geralt. 

He paused outside Geralt’s room, taking a deep breath before entering. Just a few more steps and then he could rest. Geralt was in good hands now. 

He had prepared to slip bonelessly beneath the furs, perhaps stroke a hand through Geralt’s hair, and fall into at least a half restful sleep, but the sight of the bed made him pause in his tracks. 

Geralt was lying in the middle of the bed, dressed in a plain gray shirt and tucked under the furs, a peaceful expression on his face. Ciri was facing him, her nose tucked into his collarbone and Geralt’s arms wound loosely around her waist, holding her close. 

Jaskier smiled, pulling back the furs as gently as possible so not to wake them, and slid into the bed on Geralt’s other side. 

Geralt inhaled and turned his head slightly. “Jas?” he muttered sleepily. 

“Yes,” Jaskier said, sliding an arm around Geralt’s waist. “Go to sleep, dear heart.” 

And for once, Geralt listened, slipping back into a deep and much needed sleep with Jaskier spooning him from behind and Ciri cuddled against his chest. Jaskier would wager to say that Geralt had probably never felt safer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i mean technically they cuddled at the end so it counts.
> 
> come find me on tumblr: [@suddenly-im-respecsable](https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg)


End file.
